


Tease

by Lostinfantasies38



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Demon Deals, Desire Demons (Dragon Age), Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Mild Sexual Content, One Shot, POV Varric Tethras, Relationship(s), Romance, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 05:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21156629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostinfantasies38/pseuds/Lostinfantasies38
Summary: Caught in a demon's web.  They must escape, but they have things to clear up first.





	Tease

**Author's Note:**

> This kind of got away from me, so I apologize if it feels rushed, especially the ending. I wanted to tie this up with a bow before it became a 40 page epic. I also knew that I continued to fiddle with it, that it WOULD become an epic. So, viola!  
Please read & review!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine. Original characters and world state is property of Bioware and EA. I just take my favorites out to play. This is all for fun and NEVER for profit.

"Hawke? You feelin’ okay?"

Varric looked at his friend and was more than a little unnerved by the anxiety in her eyes as she took in their surroundings. He and Hawke had been sucked in by a desire demon stalking Darktown. They had only come to this part of town so she could get some more poisons from Tomwise and he needed a face-to-face with one of his Coterie contacts.

Neither of them was wearing their usual armor, which meant that they did not have the extra spirit resistance runes they had obviously begun to rely very heavily on. Even though Varric still had Bianca and Hawke had her father’s staff (and probably six daggers hidden on her person, for extra security) they had not been prepared when the demon pulled them in with her purple tendrils.

"I'm perfectly fine, Varric," Hawke's melodic voice lied. Even jangled as his nerves were, her voice washed over him and yanked the tangled knot of "I can't deal with this shit, so I'm just going to pretend it's not there" that he had kept under wraps for a good three years.

Varric stared at her, hyper-aware of the tight set of her shoulders and the white knuckles on her staff. Her long black hair that was usually swept in a ponytail when she was working was braided and slung over her shoulder today. Those piercing blue eyes capable of freezing a man in his tracks were doubly dangerous with the hard edge to her gaze. And her mouth lacked its characteristic lilt, no sign she was about to drop a terrible pun any second. Now, it was drawn into a severe line that had alarm bells ringing in his head. 

The dwarf glanced around, but they didn’t seem to be anywhere that he recognized. It was just blank, gray wasteland as far as he could see.

“Where are we?” His voice came out quieter than he meant it to, giving away some of his own nervousness about their situation.

Hawke’s eyes never stopped scanning the area as she answered. “We’re in the Fade.”

Varric rolled his eyes, but she didn’t return the sarcasm like she normally would have. “I know that. I mean _where_ in the Fade? Aren’t there like...realms or something?” 

She nodded absentmindedly. “I can’t be sure where we are exactly. It was a desire demon, right?” Her eyes caught his searchingly. 

“Purple? Nipple shields? Creepy tail? Yep, desire demon.” Hawke snorted and gave him a ghost of a smile and Varric allowed himself to relax just a little.

“Then we must be in her realm. Though, I am surprised how long it’s taken her to show up.” Varric cocked Bianca beside her and he could see some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate.

“We should move, Hawke. Staying in the open like sitting ducks is not a good idea.” Hawke nodded and together they scouted the gray terrain. A shape shimmered like a mirage in the distance giving Varric a queasy feeling in his gut, but there was nowhere else to go. The mage looked as unsettled as he felt, however, they quickly made their way to the building, in spite of their misgivings. 

As they neared the structure, Varric realized it was Hawke’s estate. Holding her staff at the ready she glanced at him for his affirmative nod before pushing open the door. Nothing attacked them when they entered the foyer. It was an exact replica of the mansion in Kirkwall. Hawke’s table with a month’s worth of unread mail, her order sheets for potions and runes, even Dragon curled up in his usual spot in front of the fire. Everything was normal.

A giggle and running sounded from upstairs. Varric headed for the stairs, but Hawke grabbed his arm and began to frantically drag him back to the door. 

“Hawke?” 

He glanced at her in confusion, noting the deep red blush on her face traveling under the collar of her armor. With wide eyes, she breathed erratically in her desperation to escape, but the running gained on them since Varric was slowing them down as he tried to twist his arm from her grasp. 

“Mama! Mama, don’t go!”

_Shit._

A whimper escaped Hawke’s lips right before her hand touched the door handle. Varric froze in response to the words spoken in a child’s voice behind them and stared at his friend. He was afraid to turn around and find that her deepest desire was to have half-elven children with Broody. Isabella told him about the night she and Fenris spent together and how the elf abandoned her afterward. The pirate was forced to hogtie him to his stone chair for three hours until he calmed down and stopped raging about going to Hightown to beat him senseless.

Hawke’s entire body vibrated in terror, but she slowly turned around. 

“Mama! You’re home! You were gone longer than you said you’d be, but it’s okay. Uncle Anders has been helping Orana watch us.”

“Bethany.”

Her voice reminded Varric of a rusted gate scraping open for the first time in decades. Unable to take the suspense any longer, he turned to see this figment of Hawke’s imagination. The little girl couldn’t have been more than six years old with her mother’s dark, sleek hair and mouth, a button nose, and laughing amber eyes. There was something off about her, besides the fact that she wasn’t real, but Varric couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

A baby cried upstairs and Hawke dropped her staff to run in the very direction she’d dragged him away from moments earlier. Varric followed, in case it was a trap. Who was he kidding? This whole damn scenario was a trap. The girl disappeared in a puff of smoke when Hawke darted past her and he shivered. Now he followed her because he refused to be alone with all the creepy shit.

Hawke paused outside the door that had been her mother’s and Varric placed his hand gently on her arm. There was so much said between them in that touch - understanding, compassion, shared sorrow, and courage. Words he wished he could verbalize, but they caught in his throat. With a shaky breath, Hawke pushed open the door exposing the cradle in the middle of the room. Chubby arms waved in the air under the blanket and for reasons he didn’t understand his heart lurched when Hawke reached down and picked up the babe. 

He expected the baby to disappear when she picked it up the same way the girl did, but it remained solid. Sinking to her knees, Hawke cried softly against the child who quieted at its “mother’s” touch. It was too personal, too deep. He didn’t do deep, especially with Hawke, and he felt like an intruder watching such an intimate moment. Varric turned to walk away when the girl reappeared and put her hand on Hawke’s shoulder. 

“Mama, don’t cry. Garen missed you, but you’re home now and he’s happy again.”

A chill coursed along Varric’s spine at the boy’s name. Hawke cried louder, pointedly avoiding his gaze. The girl looked at him for the first time and the pieces began to fall into place. Her limbs were too short for a human child, especially one of her age, and her eyes were not the same color brown Aveline once described Bethany’s as being. If Anders was her “uncle,” then she didn’t get that color from him. And Fenris' were the exact same shade as moss. That only left one…

“Hello, Papa!”

His knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor willing his heart into a steady rhythm again so he could breathe and stop sucking in air like a fish out of water. Both children winked out of existence and a throaty laugh echoed throughout the house, but it did not reveal itself. Which was a blessing, because neither of them could have even attempted to stand, much less fight off a demon in their current state.

“Hawke,” Varric croaked. She shook her head and turned away from him. “Maeve, please,” he whispered. The mage jumped at the use of her given name, so rarely used, and suddenly he felt guilty about that. He moved closer to her, slowly, so slowly, like a scared cat that could lash out or bolt at any second.

“Mages aren’t allowed to get married and have families, Varric.” He froze halfway across the room as her raw vocal cords produced sounds less gut-wrenching than her sobs. 

“That doesn’t stop it from happening. Look at your parents," he reasoned kindly.

Hawke spun around and clawed the front of her clothes. Blue eyes wild and frantic - panicked - and when she spoke again there was an edge to her voice he’d never heard. 

“I _do_ look at them. They were never happy. Worrying about the Templars kept them living in fear. So, _we_ lived in fear.” Varric winced. “I was afraid every time I sneezed that I would set the curtains on fire like I did when I was nine. Bethany and I grew up knowing that even outside of the Circle we could never be normal. We could never have husbands or children.” 

She laughed hollowly. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be a mother, but I can’t. Magic is too strong in my family. I’m bound to have mage children and I can’t ask them to live on the run like I did.”

A knife twisted in his gut as he caught the implication. “Is…is that why the kids are mine? Because you hope the dwarven blood will dampen the magic?”

Hawke couldn’t make eye contact with him, but a blush bloomed across her skin. She wasn’t giving him any other indicators that he could read, whether positive or negative, but it stung all the same. 

The estate dissolved around them, leaving them sitting in the gray wastes of the Fade again. Another building shimmered in the distance and without a word or sparing a glance at each other, they shouldered their weapons and moved guardedly towards it. It wasn’t long before the upside-down sign of The Hanged Man became visible.

“Oh, goody, it’s my turn apparently,” Varric muttered to himself. Pulling open the door, it spit them directly into his suite instead of the tavern. All their friends, including Hawke and Varric, were seated around his table playing Wicked Grace. It could have been any of the hundreds of times they’d played over the last three years, but he recognized it immediately, backing away until he bumped into a bookshelf. Hawke watched him out of the corner of her eye as the memory unfolded. 

“Oh, I’m terrible at this game. I’ll never get it right,” Merrill pouted as she lost another round. 

Isabella laughed sweetly. “Kitten, you’re not good at it because you play with a bunch of cheats. Here, take this. Drink with us and hang out, but don’t worry your pretty little head about Wicked Grace.” The pirate handed her a steamy romance novel and Merrill’s eyes lit up. 

Hawke chuckled. “When you’re done with it, let me know, Merrill. Isabella claims that’s the sexiest bodice ripper she’s read in a while.” Merrill nodded and started reading. She wasn’t three pages in before her ears were flaming red. 

Varric shook his head and chuckled softly at the crazy women in his group of friends. He was especially aware of the raven-haired mage next to him and the heat radiating from her. It took him a long time after they met to realize it was her magical aura. Leaning over on the pretense of stretching his side, he angled his leg closer to her. Memory Hawke didn’t notice, but Real Hawke did.

Two rounds and four more mugs later, everyone was officially on their way to sloppy drunk, even Varric. No one really paid the dwarf and their leader any mind as they leaned in when they talked. It was commonplace and had become more so after their Deep Roads excursion that was only six months behind them. 

Varric, Hawke, and Anders refused to speak of the two months they spent trapped underground, afraid they would never see daylight again. All their friends knew was it had been traumatic and that Varric and Hawke were plotting myriad ways to kill Bartrand. 

Memory Hawke casually laid her hand on his, ungloved for once, but she missed the way he shivered involuntarily at the contact. Merrill called to her down the table, distracting her so he could grab his mug and hide the ragged breath he exhaled before he took a sip. When she turned back to him, his face was a perfectly schooled mask of friendliness again.

He shuffled the deck for the last round as Edwina yelled from the base of the stairs that everyone needed to be out in an hour. Varric was so flustered by her presence that he missed Isabella’s sleight of hand and she fleeced them all that night. But he didn’t really care. Everyone packed up, except for Hawke. Waving them all goodnight, she made sure Isabella escort Merrill home safely. Anders shut the door behind them, leaving the two of them alone. 

It was Real Varric’s turn to studiously avoid his friend’s curious gaze. _Shit, fuck, damn it, damn it, shit! _

Memory Hawke looked up from her mug and sighed. “Varric, I have a question.”

Memory Varric played it cool, spreading his hands wide magnanimously. “I might have an answer, depending on the question."

Running her finger along the rim of her mug a little nervously, she asked, “Are you angry with me?” 

Varric sputtered and stared at her incredulously. “Should I be?” 

Hawke fluttered her hands, biting her lip uncertainly. “Well, the Deep Roads were…_trying._” Varric snorted into his mug but didn’t interrupt. “I was a little… uh… handsy at times. Mostly with you and I…” She laughed anxiously. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid. I’ve just felt guilty about it because you… didn’t seem to… shit, this is awkward. Forget I said anything.” Hawke stood abruptly, scraping her chair with a screech across the worn floorboards, but stopped when he grabbed her wrist.

“I didn’t what, Maeve?" he asked quietly. "We’re friends. If I hurt your feelings or offended you, I want to know, so I don’t do it again.” He smiled warmly and she ran a hand through her long hair as she reclaimed her seat.

“You didn’t seem… to reciprocate… my handsy-ness. I was afraid I crossed a line.” A mirthless chuckled passed her lips and she dropped her voice to a whisper. “I thought I was going to die. That we were all going to die. And Maker help me, I didn’t want to die without…”

“A tumble? A great shag with a handsome dwarf?” Varric teased to lighten the tension, pulling a genuine bark of laughter from the woman next to him. Squeezing her hand, he smiled. “It wasn’t that I wouldn’t have – it’s just...”

“Bianca?”

Varric closed his eyes so she couldn’t read the lie and nodded his head. A feather-light touch brushed his stubbled jaw and he snapped them open again, trying to figure out if the electricity that danced on his skin was her mana or simply _her_.

She smiled wistfully. “Well, I can’t fault you for that, Varric. I just wanted to make sure we were good. Sometimes you go out of your way to avoid touching me and our fights a little more stilted than they used to be. I miss us being more… organic.”

“I’ll work on it. I think the Deep Roads rattled me more than I realized, but I’m getting back in the swing of things," he murmured.

“Good. I’ve missed you," she admitted sincerely. This time when she stood, he did not stop her. With a final soft goodnight, she slipped out of his suite, her boots clipping smartly through the silent tavern. 

Once the door closed behind her Varric bent over and pressed his forehead to the cool stone. “Forgive me, Maeve. I’m a coward. I should have told you the truth. I think you replaced Bianca before the Deep Roads and I wanted… I couldn’t… Fuck. I’m so sorry.” Real Hawke watched in stunned silence as Memory Varric sat up, wiping traitorous tears off his face before ambling drunkenly to bed. 

Varric shivered when the demon’s laughter echoed throughout his suite, but he couldn’t look at Hawke. The silence stretched between them until it threatened to swallow both of them whole. He finally risked a glance at his friend and saw tears rolling down her face. Maker's ass.

“I-I couldn’t... I can’t…” Varric paused to take a steadying breath. “I can’t talk about feelings. Bianca kinda ruined me there.”

Hawke's striking eyes brimmed with anguish. “That’s not the problem, for me at least. _This_ is a memory. Mine was my deepest, darkest desire - hidden even from myself. But now I know that I don’t rank highly enough for you for that. I’m only surprised the demon hasn’t shown me a heartbreaking vision of you and Bianca running off into the sunset.”

Varric grimaced. He wanted to explain that he loved her, had for years. To tell her that he respected her and he was simply too cowardly to pursue her because he was afraid of losing her like he lost Bianca. But the words turned to ash on his tongue; he knew they would sound empty and she'd never believe them now. He’d lost his chance.

The laughter was back this time with form. The demon clapped sarcastically at their expense and Hawke spat at its feet. “Tease. You aren’t even a full desire demon. You only dangle pieces of enticing visions to ensnare.” 

Tease smiled wickedly. “It worked for you, didn’t it? And now you’re here.” She waved her hand and the tavern disappeared, returning them to the graylands. 

“You said you wanted to see the dwarf’s deepest desire. The one he hides even from himself,” she purred while a clawed hand lifted his chin. He moved to punch her in the fucking mouth, but he was frozen. The demon spoke only to Hawke. _She_ was the mage and Tease wanted to own her.

Hawke spared him a quick glance, but then she turned her full attention to Tease. “What is your price?”

“Let me merge with you, mage. We can be Hawke together and we can bring so much... pleasure to so many. Think of it as giving back to the community.” The demon laughed and Varric felt himself harden unwillingly in response to her magic. Tease noticed and swung her hips at him. “See, Hawke? How easy it can be and how delicious?”

“Show me first. I want to guarantee you won’t go back on your word,” she demanded. 

Tease flicked her tail and shrugged. “Have it your way, my pet.” The demon waved her hand, building substance over them again, and disappeared with a seductive chuckle.

Hawke was surprised to discover they were back in her estate. Her bedroom, no less. Varric sat at her desk, covered in his Guild documents and ledgers, and an ever-growing stack of mail from Orzammar. His father’s signet ring sat beside the red wax for sealing letters.

She glanced at Varric, now unfrozen with his head buried in his hands. Without even looking he knew what he would see. His fantasy of Hawke and himself in her mansion, living in the open as lovers. 

His deepest desire.

Turning back, she watched another version of herself walk into her room, momentarily thrown off by the oddness of it. She wore her usual finery, but they weren’t maroon. This set was elegant forest green silk trimmed in black satin. House Tethras colors, she realized. Hawke paused in the bedroom and smiled softly at the man working hard to keep the family business running. Moving behind him, she slid her arms around his chest with a pleasant hum. Varric sighed happily and laid aside his quill to run his hands over hers.

“Long day?” Hawke asked. Varric nodded into her cleavage, nuzzling the softness appreciatively. She leaned over and kissed him, slow and languid, as though they'd been lovers for years and knew just what the other liked. Her fingers inched seductively along his chest to unclasp his duster. 

“Let me make you more comfortable,” she breathed in his ear and Varric moaned.

Snaking his hands around her waist, amazed by how small she was all these years later, he trailed a hand along her spine to gently knead out the day’s tension. Hawke sighed contentedly at his touch and straightened to help him shed his tunic. Varric hopped off the chair, clad only in his breeches, and scooped Hawke up in a practiced move, carrying her to bed.

The bed was different. It wasn’t dwarven, but it was lower to the ground than a regular bed, so he didn’t have to scramble in and out all the time. Laying her gently on the plush mattress, he pulled the tie on her robe and breathed her name. 

“Maeve.”

“ENOUGH!” Hawke waved her hand and the vision disappeared. Varric stared at the ground, but she needed to know. Towering over him, she lifted his chin to meet her intense gaze.

“Tell me… is it true or is it a lie?” He raised his amber eyes to hers – the ones she always imagined their children would have because she loved them so much. His expression looked pained, regret perhaps? His eyes, though, were full of hope, of want, of desire.

Hawke stepped back with a gasp and clutched her heart. “Why?” she rasped. “Why didn’t you tell me? Maker, Varric! Do you – do you know how long I’ve loved you?” Tears poured across her cheeks, her lovely mouth screwed into an unnatural shape by the force of her sobs.

“Probably as long as I’ve loved you, Maeve,” he whispered. It was a relief to say the words aloud, but the admission was too late, he knew. All the woman in front of him currently felt was betrayal. “I’m so sorry.”

Hawke’s eyes jerked up to meet his. “I just sold my soul to find out what you should have told me years ago.” Flinging an arm behind her where the estate used to be, she accused, “We could have had that! For the last three years, that could have been us. Maker’s breath, I would have been so fucking happy!”

“You don’t have to do this, Mae – Hawke.” Varric swallowed hard at the way her eyes flashed dangerously when he tried to use her given name.

“Yes, I do, Varric. This is not a normal part of the Fade. We’ve been enthralled and our bodies are dying on the outside. If I don’t do this, we don’t wake up and… you die. No matter how hurt I am right now I could never, _ever,_ wish you dead.”

Laughter echoed eerily as Tease rejoined them. “Such a smart mage, you are. We shall make a fabulous team, my pet. Now, say goodbye to your dwarven friend. Once we merge, I promise your love for him will end and there will be no more pain. We can find more lovers.”

Hawke stood firm before the demon, raising herself to her full height. “The spell holding him is released prior to my possession or we don’t have a deal. If you fight me, you lose your host, so be smart about this.” 

“Hawke, no!” 

Tease waved her hand, freezing and silencing his protests. Varric jerked against the invisible bindings and screamed even though there was no sound. Tease ran a clawed finger across Hawke’s beautiful face. Azure eyes met amber while the demon smiled and licked her lips. 

“Done,” she agreed, snapping her taloned fingers.

Varric woke with a start, rolling off the cot in Anders’ clinic, violently vomiting everything in his stomach until there was nothing left, except bile. Anders rushed over, casting a few diagnostic spells, and sending him some healing for the nausea. Spotting Hawke on the cot next to him, Varric dashed over and shook her shoulders. 

“Wake up, Maeve! For fuck’s sake, wake up!” 

Anders and Fenris were both necessary to restrain him as they peppered him with questions. He couldn’t answer any of them, it would have taken too much time, so he simply looked at Anders and said, “Tease has her.”

Justice flared blue and white-hot, bringing with him the smell of ozone, as the spirit raged at the knowledge that one of their own was held hostage by a demon. “If she had been possessed, she would be awake by now. Maybe she has tricked this demon and fights it in the Fade?”

Varric raked his hands through his hair, screaming obscenities to the Maker and Andraste and the damned Ancestors, for good measure. That’s exactly what she did! That’s why she wanted him to wake up first and what the final look was for. She was fucking sacrificing herself for his stupid, sorry, good-for-nothing dwarven ass.

“Is there is nothing we can do?” rumbled Fenris. 

Justice shook his head. “Not on this side. We don’t even know where she might be in the Fade, but if she bests the demon she will wake because the spell she is trapped under will break. But if she loses, she will wake possessed.”

“What if…” Fenris paused. “What if she dies in the fight?” 

Justice spared a sad look for the mage and did not answer – which was answer enough. 

Varric ran out of curses and energy. He sank to the filthy floor without care and stared at her laid out as if sleeping on the cot, instead of fighting a demon for him in the Fade. Tears coursed down his cheeks of their own accord and for once, he didn’t hide them. He deserved the shame, the ridicule, the guilt. He kept replaying the heartbroken expression on her face when she realized he loved her and never told her. Realizing he probably never would have because he was a coward. He was too worried about himself to think about how his reticence would hurt her until it was too late. Now, she was doing the most noble (stupid) thing one could do for another – die for them. Her devotion to him far outstripped his own.

That wasn’t actually true.

Varric thought back to the Deep Roads and the night the darkspawn attacked their camp. Blondie gave them a heads up so they were prepared for the assault, but they weren’t prepared for the sheer number of them. Halfway through the fight, she and Anders were tapped on mana with no more lyrium potions to augment their power. He was out of bolts, but he'd snagged a recurve bow and all the quivers with arrows still in them, so he at least had a weapon. His main concern was to avoid being surrounded.

Varric saw a hurlock alpha with its horned helmet heading for Hawke from behind and he tried to aim for its knee, but the darkspawn was faster than he was. Realizing he’d never get a shot off before it reached her, Varric rained arrows on the field to slow the creature down and ran to her. He shoved her out of the way and took the hit with the shield meant for her. It threw him across the battlefield and he would have died had Justice not erupted out of Anders in that moment and given the mage the mana he needed to cushion his landing. Instead of smashing his brains across the Deep Roads, Varric only ended up with a headache. Now that he thought back on it, the noise in the background he always attributed to darkspawn was the sound of Hawke hysterically screaming his name while he flew.

On shaky legs, Varric stood and walked over to her cot. Gently taking her hand, he ran his thumb over her knuckles and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. He noticed Fenris and Anders were gone, obviously slipping out some time ago, but at this point, he wouldn’t have hesitated even had they been there. He'd wasted enough time with her and he did not intend to miss any damn more.

“Please, Maeve. I was an idiot - a Maker-damned ass. I know I screwed up royally, but please... please don’t leave me. I-I don’t know what to do with myself when you aren’t around.”

Varric chuckled softly. “I love your laugh, your smile, the way you light up an entire room as soon as you walk in. I love your fucking terrible jokes, even though I pretend to hate them. You have been the one constant in my life for the last three years. I know I can count on you through thick and thin. Damn it, Maeve – I love you so damn much. If you wake up, I swear I will spend the rest of my life making up the time we lost. Just open your beautiful eyes. Please, please, please.” 

Laying his forehead tenderly on her abdomen, Varric prayed harder than he'd ever prayed in his life. His mother was probably rolling over in her tomb with the knowledge her son was Andrastrian, but he never cared for dwarf shit anyway.

He had no idea how long he stayed that way, but he woke in the same position with a happy moan as fingers massaged his scalp and toyed with his hair. Wait, what? 

Jerking upright, he saw her brilliant eyes staring down at him, plush lips pulled into a warm smile. “Maeve,” he breathed. She laughed softly to keep from waking the other patients. “Is it really you? No… passengers?”

Hawke smiled wider. “No passengers, I promise, but I do have a friend in the Templars who could double-check. For everyone’s peace of mind.”

Varric kissed her hand. “I’ll go get Keeran.” 

Hawke chuckled again. “You don’t have to worry about demon possession with me, but I could swear you just read my mind, Varric.” 

“I’ll have him check me, too, smartass," he quipped, shooting her a shaky smile as he turned to leave, but she caught his hand. They stared at each other for a moment, at a loss for words, until Varric very slowly leaned down holding her gaze as he went, in case she changed her mind. Their lips met for the first time in reality and Varric closed his eyes, focusing solely on her. 

So much was said in that first sweet kiss and more was said later that night after Keeran declared them both free of demons and Varric lead Maeve home through the cellars. The story of Hawke’s elven lover was an invention created to throw off the Seekers and the Chantry, but they came for him anyway, since he was the author of the book. Forcibly recruited into the Inquisition, Varric was present during the battle of Adamant, but no one realized it was really Hawke’s lover who paced restlessly outside the rift. 

Their second time in the Fade together was more terrifying than the first and he prayed that she would follow him out. Varric noticed movement behind the tear in the Veil, but it wasn’t until the Inquisitor stepped through that he could see Hawke. Shoving through the gathering crowd, he fell on the ground in front of where she sat. She smiled weakly, but he shook his head in disbelief, surging to capture her lips and kiss her soundly in relief. He didn’t stop until he heard the cheers and whistles behind them. Hawke grinned, blue eyes flashing mischievously, and Varric chuckled. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered, kissing her through her laughter and the sounds of approval from the crowd. He promised her that first night he would never tease her again, and he aimed to keep it.


End file.
